I keep wanting to write a comic about this fucker. Yeah, he's a fantastic and wonderful bro, but shit didn't add up after a while.
See, I had this japanese goat living on the other side of the river, right? Bob's on one side, with me.
Whatever. I see Bob next door and I'm like "Cool, I'll talk to Bob! Do some favors for him, be bros." He's all "Sure, pbtbthb, just take this comic book over to that other japanese dude." So I do. I get bells in return. Then I start doing errands for that dude. He gives me presents, out of nowhere. I come on one day, he's outside my house, gives me furniture. Like he's my grandpa or something.
One day Bob sends me to gramps again. He wants his comic book back.
The guy doesn't have it. Some fatass hippo has it. So I get the comic from the hippo, and give it to Bob. He goes for a walk later that day to Japanese guy's house.
Gramps is depressed. Bob is singing.
The next day the goat's house was gone. Bob was still there. No letters. Nothing.
He's a fucking eraser, man. Him and Rover. They're fucking psychopaths. They killed my old bro and burned his house down.
